


Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny...Metal Bikini

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [48]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Sexual Fantasy, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a problem.  He keeps fantasizing about Lydia in a certain costume and waking up...sticky.  He needs to solve the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny...Metal Bikini

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cotton Candy Bingo Prompt: Fantasy. A bit of sexy talk and language here.

Stiles was pretty sure that the Princess Leia metal bikini featured heavily in the fantasy rotations of every straight, male Star Wars fan (the gay ones probably fantasized about Han's tight pants and thigh holster--perfectly understandable; being sexually flexible, he'd had a few of those over the years, too) but after the third wet dream in a week of Lydia in the bikini, he was beginning to think he had a problem.

Also, he jacked off every night before bed to not have wet dreams like a thirteen year old, so that was a problem, too. After this morning, the third time of dawn laundering of his bedding since Sunday, his dad just gave him a long-suffering sigh and danced around talking about it, for which Stiles would be eternally grateful.

And it wasn't like he was sexless anymore. He and Lydia had been dating for nearly four months and sleeping together for just over three and they averaged twice a week so far if you didn't count him going down on her when they were supposed to be patrolling to make her, well, less bitchy about patrolling, and her giving him hand jobs in the middle of long research sessions to keep him focused.

Long story short, he was getting plenty of sex.

When he whined this to Scott, his best friend--also getting plenty of sex--gave him a confused look. "I don't see the problem."

Stiles' thought back over exactly what he'd said and realized he'd focused on the sex he was getting and not that there was a problem. He tried again.

"I still don't see the problem." Shutting his locker, Scott hefted his backpack over one shoulder and gestured in the direction of their next class. "Can we have this discussion somewhere later in private?"

"No one cares. They're all horny teenagers," Stiles explained, waving his arms at various other students as he caught up to Scott. "But, that's just it, I shouldn't be this horny."

"You're not married, Stiles. I'm pretty sure that it's okay to, y'know, do _that_." His voice dropped to a whisper spoken out of the side of his mouth.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Jerking off, sure." Ignoring Scott's shushing noises, he continued blithely, "But the wet dreams? Yeah, they're getting to be a pain." The last half of the last sentence was spoken through Scott's hand over his mouth, and Stiles glared at him and bit him.

"OW!"

"Baby."

Scott glared back and walked through the doorway of their history class. "So, make the fantasy real," he shot over his shoulder, leaving Stiles a bit dumbfounded.

Make it real?

The sudden image of Lydia in the metal bikini reclining on his bed forced him to swing his backpack in front of his crotch and half-waddle to his seat, where the object of his fantasy frowned at him with lips and narrowed eyes.

Stiles smiled brilliantly back and missed every single thing his teacher said during the whole lesson.

*****

"No."

"But, sweetie..." Stiles wheedled, pointing to the website with the so-called Halloween costume. Yeah, like anyone wore it to a costume party.

"No," Lydia said a bit more firmly. "I don't dress up."

"I'll dress up anyway you want me in return," he tried.

That she thought about for a minute, tapping a purple nailed finger against her lip, then shook her head. "While it's tempting to dress you the way I want, and I'm not speaking about costumes, Stiles, but well fitting clothing in appropriate colors with nary a cartoon character t-shirt in sight..." Stiles shuddered in dread and Lydia gave him a tight smile. "I don't do costumes."

"But you have a great, curvy body, just like Princess Leia, and I'd, y'know, call you princess and worship at your feet."

"You already do that."

True.

"No one would know," Stiles switched tacks.

"Of course no one would know because I'd never have sex with you again if they did," she countered with a sweetly spoken threat which made him shudder again.

Then he went for broke. "Okay, the real reason?" At her tight nod, he sighed and laid it all out for her--the fantasies and wet dreams and wet sheets and embarrassment and his dad and...

He stopped talking when Lydia's palm settled over his mouth--he didn't bite her.

"Okay. You buy it. I'll wear it once and you can call me Princess Leia and play Luke..."

"He's her brother," he gasped out, muffled by her hand, which she dropped as she shook her head and sighed.

"I'm in love with such a geek."

"Nerd," he corrected with a grin. "I'll be Han."

"...With a thigh holster?"

At her sudden interest, Stiles grin grew and he pulled out his wallet. He already knew the site had a Han Solo costume, too.

End


End file.
